


Hide and Smite

by Captain_Lilja, Lark (Larkaidikalikani)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley just wants attention, Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), On their own side, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), art included, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Lilja/pseuds/Captain_Lilja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkaidikalikani/pseuds/Lark
Summary: “They’d perfected the art of dancing around each other, dodging the questions that mattered, and acting as if their prior wounds had never existed. Talking had never been their strong point. It was their actions that had always spoken for them. And right now, Crowley’s actions were, to put it simply, baffling.”In which Crowley causes mischief, Aziraphale is oblivious, a snake is chased around the bookshop, and feelings are discussed.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34
Collections: Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang





	Hide and Smite

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Do It With Style Reverse Bang.
> 
> Art and Concept by: Lark  
> Fic by: Captain Lilja
> 
> Find us on Tumblr: [Lark](https://larkartwolf.tumblr.com/), [Captain Lilja](https://captainlilja.tumblr.com/)

At first, Aziraphale didn’t think much of it. He dismissed it as simply being forgetful--after all, there was a lot going through a mind over 6,000 years old--but he could have sworn he’d put that one book back on the table with the others.

Then, a few days later, it happened again. Something was missing from the top of the desk. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he could tell that things just weren’t quite right. Granted, he had many things scattered around the surface--books he was reading, one he was restoring, notes from his new inventory of the shop--so he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was missing, but he could sense that some kind of mischief was afoot.

Mischief usually meant Crowley.

Crowley, who was waiting in the back for him so they could go to brunch. Crowley, who seemed happiest when lounging on a couch with a bottle of wine and chatting about dolphins or stars. Crowley, who for a Demon seemed anything but demonic these days.

It had been two months since the world hadn’t ended. They’d survived their respective home offices and were officially on their own side. Mostly that meant lazy dinners and Crowley sprawled across Aziraphale’s furniture at all hours.

Aziraphale was enjoying this new stage in their relationship, where they could just be friends without looking over their shoulders. He enjoyed that Crowley was a constant presence around the shop, amusing himself on his phone or napping while Aziraphale worked on a new restoration project or simply read at his desk. 

As much as he enjoyed their time together, he wondered if a Demon could ever change his spots, so to speak. Crowley had never been cruel, but causing chaos and trouble was something he seemed to enjoy. Aziraphale knew he was being unreasonable to expect Crowley to not cause some trouble here and there. He just didn’t particularly enjoy being the target of it.

Making his way to the backroom, he found Crowley exactly where he expected to: sprawled across the couch, his sunglasses on his head as he did something on his phone with a grin.

“Orc-ing the masses?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley lowered the phone and stared at him blankly. “Orc-ing?” He frowned. “It’s called trolling, angel. And there is an art to it.”

“Seems awfully petty.”

“Not everything can be the M-25.” 

Aziraphale considered him a moment. “You haven’t been ‘trolling’ me, have you?”

“Why would you ask that?” Crowley swung his skinny legs and stood, crossing over to the Angel in just a few long strides. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that, dear.” Aziraphale replied hurriedly. 

He didn’t like the slightly wounded expression on the Demon’s face. He knew he’d caused an unnecessary amount of hurt to Crowley over the centuries with the way he’d denied their friendship and pushed the Demon away. Now, with everything they’d been through, he didn’t want to give Crowley any reason to doubt that he was a welcomed part of Aziraphale’s life. 

“I’m just being absent minded. Misplacing things.” The Angel continued, waving off his prior question. “Don’t mind me.”

“You know what the solution is?”

“What?”

“Mimosas.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Considering the events after our last brunch are a little vague, I’m not sure that’s going to help.”

“But it will take your mind off things.” Crowley grinned. “Come on, angel. There are omelets and waffles waiting.”

“Oh, that does sound lovely. Lead on, my dear.”

Brunch was, in fact, very lovely. The food was excellent, the mimosas were strong, and Crowley seemed to be in a good mood. By the time they stumbled back to the bookshop, Aziraphale had forgotten all about the question of his missing items. He didn’t even bother to scold Crowley when the Demon returned gleefully (i.e. drunkenly) to his online trolling. Aziraphale sank into his chair with a book of modernist thinking that he always felt was only properly enjoyed while thoroughly sloshed. 

And so life went on.

All seemed well for a week or so. However, one afternoon, Aziraphale had the sense that something was amiss. As before, he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was, but he knew that something in his world was just a tiny bit out of alignment. 

He set off through the bookshop, observing everything carefully for any sign of what had been nagging at him. Then, he finally spotted it. What should have been a shelf of first edition Wilde were spines written in archaic runes. Runes that he didn’t think anyone on this planet could read outside of himself and Crowley--which made the culprit easy to determine.

Especially when he realized what the runes said. _Gabriel suxs. Michael’s a wanker_. And so on with similar themes. Fuming with righteous indignation--even if he did agree with several of the statements--he grabbed one volume ( _Sandalphon is a prat_ ) and strode off toward the backroom, determined to confront Crowley this time.

The backroom, however, was empty. There was no Demon sprawled on the couch like normal.

Stymied, Aziraphale glanced around, trying to figure out where Crowley had gone. With far less fury in his steps, he ventured into the labyrinth of shelves. It wasn’t until he got to the far side of the shop that he got his answer.

Aziraphale stopped abruptly, discovering a rather large black snake curled up on the windowsill. He couldn’t tell if Crowley was asleep or not, the whole lack of eyelids being rather unsettling, but the snake did look rather comfortable, haloed in the bright afternoon sunlight.

He quickly learned Crowley was awake as the snake raised his head and fluidly morphed back into his human shape. 

“I haven’t seen that form in some time.” Aziraphale commented.

“It was too tempting of a sunny spot to resist. Sometimes you just get an urge to bask, you know?” Crowley shrugged casually as he stretched his long, newly-returned limbs. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Not at all. However you’re comfortable. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Were you looking for me for a reason, angel?”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale remembered why he’d come looking for the Demon in the first place. He waved the book in Crowley’s direction. “Why are you defacing my books?”

“Finally found that, huh?” Crowley grinned. “I didn’t deface it. I made it better.”

“Crowley!”

“Alright, alright.” With a huff, the Demon snapped, returning the spine of the book to normal. “Better?”

“Yes. Very much. I don’t know what would possess you to do something like that.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and pointed at himself. “I’m a Demon. You know, d-e-m-o-n? Dee-mon.” He enunciated slowly and exactly. “It’s kind of what I do.”

“Can you find another source of entertainment that isn’t my books?” Aziraphale regretted saying it the moment he did. He saw the way Crowley’s grin shifted to something more wicked. “I don’t like that look. That look is trouble.”

“Nothing for you to worry about, angel. Now, how about lunch?”

“You’re not going to distract me with food. You’re up to something.”

“I hear there’s a new Thai place a few blocks away.”

Aziraphale started to protest that he wasn’t letting Crowley off so easily, but then found himself thinking about a good, fresh bowl of spicy noodles. “I do like Thai food.”

“I know.” Crowley sauntered toward the door. “Come on. There’ll be a table opening up just as we arrive.”

As much as Aziraphale wanted to continue fussing about the books and chiding Crowley for his behavior, the promise of lunch was too tempting. So, for what he was sure was not the last time, he gave in and followed after Crowley into the autumn afternoon.

He had forgiven Crowley for the book incident because that’s what his angelic nature told him to do--forgive. It was also helped along by Crowley arriving at the bookshop several days later with tickets to the theater that night for a new play just opening up. Aziraphale was delighted.

His good mood lasted right up until he was almost finished getting dressed in his formal suit for the evening. He missed the days when everyone wore tuxedos or their best apparel to the theater and he wasn’t going to lower his standards. In his black suit, he had opened the drawer with his bow ties and froze on the spot.

The drawer was stuffed with fabric--various patterns of tartan and plaid, silks from around the world, and even a bow tie with little pears he thought was too amusing not to buy (in fact, there was a whole section dedicated to food-related patterns, including wine glasses, ice cream cones, cheese plates, and more). But despite the chaos of color and prints, he could tell something was missing. Perhaps more than one something. To any casual observer, it wouldn’t have been obvious, but Aziraphale knew.

“Crowley!” 

He stormed from the bedroom and down to the backroom where Crowley was waiting, looking dapper in his dark grey suit. Aziraphale mentally chided himself that this was not the time to be sidetracked by how handsome that suit was--he was angry with the Demon.

“Something wrong, angel?” Crowley asked, eyebrow raised.

“Come here. I need to show you something.” He didn’t wait for a reply before tromping back up the stairs and into his room.

He waited at the dresser for Crowley to amble in, the Demon glancing around the space as if he hadn’t seen it before.

“Look.” Aziraphale pointed into the drawer, puffed with indignity.

Crowley looked. And then looked back to Aziraphale, clearly unfazed. “Why do you own so many bow ties? You’ve been wearing the same one for decades.” He picked one out of the drawer and waved it. That pattern happened to be little yellow ducks on a blue background.

“Bow ties are cool.” 

The snort Crowley made seemed to indicate that he did not agree. “Why am I looking at your bow tie collection, angel?”

“Because there are several missing.” Aziraphale snatched the fabric out of Crowley’s hand, shoved it back in the drawer, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Crowley continued to look unimpressed. He gazed at Aziraphale, unblinking and somewhat challenging. As if he was waiting for an accusation. 

The longer the staring went on, the less confident and righteous the Angel felt. After a few more moments of quiet, he sighed.

“I suppose it is possible not everything was restored properly when Adam reset things. It’s really not a big deal. Nevermind.” Not looking at Crowley, he selected his black bow tie and quickly put it on with practiced fingers. “We should be going.”

Crowley reached out and straightened the bow tie just a little before stepping back. “If you say so.”

The play should have been delightful. Aziraphale had been looking forward to seeing it for some time, but he felt distracted. Crowley was up to something and it frustrated him greatly that he couldn’t figure out what it was. Or why. Why was the Demon being such a nuisance now? 

Aziraphale found himself watching Crowley out of the corner of his eye. The way the Demon chuckled at the parts that were funny and rolled his eyes when things got too sappy. Every instinct in Aziraphale’s soul told him that he could trust Crowley, he’d felt that way since the moment they’d met on the Wall all those millenia ago. He liked Crowley’s company and he knew that Crowley returned that sentiment. After all, why else would they be here at a play Crowley had got them tickets to? The Angel supposed if he really wanted to examine it (he wasn’t sure he did) there was that invitation to run off to the stars in the days before Armageddon was supposed to occur. Surely Crowley wouldn’t have made such a bold proposal if he didn’t want to be around the Angel.

So why were things different now? Crowley had never focused so much attention on deliberately annoying Aziraphale before. So why had he started now that they were on their own side and living by their own rules?

Frustration gnawed at Aziraphale. He was missing something and he didn’t like it when there was an unresolved piece to a mystery. He knew he should just ask, but he didn’t think he’d get an honest answer. They’d perfected the art of dancing around each other, dodging the questions that mattered, and acting as if their prior wounds had never existed. Talking had never been their strong point. It was their actions that had always spoken for them. And right now, Crowley’s actions were, to put it simply, baffling.

“Not enjoying it?” Crowley murmured softly.

Aziraphale startled a little as the voice was right in his ear, not having noticed Crowley lean so close. “It’s fine, dear. I suppose I’m just distracted.”

“By?”

“By you talking at the theater. Hush. It’s rude.”

Crowley chuckled a little as he moved away.

Aziraphale turned his attention back to the play, trying hard to ignore the Demon and just focusing on the actors. He did, ultimately, enjoy the play. He also enjoyed their walk afterwards from the theater to a small cafe that had some of his favorite desserts in the neighborhood. Crowley seemed patient, not complaining as Aziraphale sampled all the new treats and enjoyed a decadent slice of cake.

Contented by the chocolate, Aziraphale didn’t even complain at Crowley’s speeding back to the shop. He actually enjoyed watching the lights of the city fly by, taking a moment to appreciate that the Earth was still turning and they could do things like go to the theater, or out to eat daily, and not worry about being seen together. 

One of their habits, however, had not changed, and that was drinking far too much wine in Aziraphale’s backroom after a night out. This night was certainly one of those nights.

They were three bottles deep into a red Crowley had brought over several days before, bickering lightly about pigeons, when Crowley sat up suddenly and raised his glass.

“We saved them, you know?” His words were a little slurred, but he was grinning. His sunglasses were on the side table and his eyes were bright with excitement. “We saved the pigeons and the dolphins and the… the…” He seemed at a loss for a moment.

“And the marmosets.” Aziraphale offered helpfully. 

“Right. And marmosets. Whatever that is.”

“A monkey.”

“Those too! If we hadn’t stopped the apocalypse, there’d be no monkeys. Granted with the rate the humans are going, that may still happen, but that’s beside the point.” Crowley flopped back onto the couch, his wine nearly splashing out of the glass. “We saved the world, angel.”

“Yes, we did.” Aziraphale nodded. He was feeling warm and pleased and just a little sleepy. “I am quite glad. I rather like it here. And I’m glad we can enjoy it together.”

“Me too. Not worth saving if you weren’t a part of it.”

In hindsight, Aziraphale should have paid more attention to what was being said. However, the alcohol had made everything fuzzy around the edges and he didn’t give a second thought to the comment.

Instead, they finished another bottle of wine and Crowley had passed out on the couch while Aziraphale returned to his modernist reading. They had gone for breakfast the next morning and then Crowley had headed off to do whatever it was he did when he wasn’t lounging on Aziraphale’s couch.

Aziraphale had turned his attention to the book he was restoring, grateful for a distraction-free afternoon to work. 

He was able to focus for a while, but soon found that the shop was too quiet. Even though Crowley was not overly noisy, there was something about his presence that made the shop feel a little more alive. Aziraphale was a little surprised to find himself missing the Demon so soon. There had been times they hadn’t seen one another for decades or centuries, surely a few hours should not feel such a great distance.

With a sigh, Aziraphale sat back from the desk and glanced around the bookshop. He knew the shelf of Wilde novels had been returned to their proper forms, but the reason for Crowley’s little prank was still unclear. And, he was sure there were still things missing from his desk and bow tie drawer. He couldn’t see the point or what Crowley was hoping to achieve.

“Perhaps this is precisely why he’s doing it: to make my wonder and worry. It’s all probably just some game to him.” He mused out loud. It didn’t sound any more convincing than when he’d thought it, but it was said. “I shouldn’t really fuss over it any more. I’m just giving him what he wants.”

With a nod of determination, Aziraphale set back to his task, pushing the thoughts of the Demon to the side.

It was two days before Crowley came strutting into the bookshop, grinning in a way that always made Aziraphale a little nervous.

“Dare I ask what you’ve been up to?” The Angel eyed him. “I do seem to be getting slack in my thwarting of late.”

“Nothing for you to be worried about. Just some clever stuff with a computer.” He glanced in the direction of Aziraphale’s old desktop. “Wi-fi and whatnot.”

“I see.” He really didn’t, but also wasn’t that concerned about it. “And what brings you over today?”

Crowley shrugged, a motion that seemed to take his whole body. “Just thought I’d pop over. What have you been up to?”

“I’m almost finished on this restoration. It’s been quite a process. Been nice to focus on it for a couple days.”

“Need me to leave you be then?”

“Not at all, my dear. If you’re okay entertaining yourself for a little while, we could have lunch. I’ve been craving Indian if that’s agreeable with you.”

“Whatever you want, angel.” Crowley gave a tight smile.

Aziraphale had the feeling he’d said something wrong and had upset Crowley, but he wasn’t sure what. He opened his mouth to start to ask but the Demon turned and headed off toward the back before he could get the words out. 

Baffled by whatever was happening between them and why things seemed so confusing suddenly, Aziraphale decided that it was time to talk. He couldn’t keep putting it off and hoping it went away. Something was going on with Crowley and he needed to figure out what once and for all.

Standing and making his way toward the back, he paused as something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He knew the bookshop like the back of his hand (even in this newly restored version) and he knew when something didn’t belong. In this case it was a statue sitting on top of a pile of books.

He ventured over and stared at the statue. It looked Victorian and cast iron with a white coating. The subject appeared to be a cherub, somewhat scantily clad, battling a large serpent. It wasn’t that the statue was tacky, in fact it was rather lovely, but it’s unexpected presence made Aziraphale feel even more annoyed than he already was.

“Crowley!” He shouted toward the back.

The Demon wandered over shortly after, eyebrow raised. “You called?”

“What is that?” 

Crowley followed his point to the statue. “It’s called art, angel. Surely you know that. Looks like a traditional representation of good versus evil.”

“Why are you doing this to me?!” Aziraphale demanded, shaking a little with frustration.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Crowley, you have been tormenting me for weeks. The books, the bow ties, this-” He motioned to the statue. “If this is your idea of fun, getting me riled up, well I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Not really.” Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Then tell me what the devil is going on!”

“Nothing. Everything is just fine. You and your books. I’ll just hang around in the background.”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “What does that mean? Crowley, you aren’t making any sense. You sound like you’re pouting. I don’t understand why you’re being this way.”

Crowley hissed angrily at him and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Aziraphale’s bow tie was in the Demon’s hand.

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale demanded indignantly. “Give that back.”

“Come get it.”

Aziraphale stepped forward, to grab for the bow tie, only to miss completely as Crowley shifted into his snake form and slithered off between the bookcases. “That is most certainly not fair!”

Despite his complaints, he gave chase. He was sure they looked absurd from the outside--a soft, middle-aged bookseller running after a large snake with a bow tie on its nose. Somehow, Crowley managed to stay one step ahead of him, slipping through gaps in shelves and maneuvering through piles that slowed Aziraphale down.

“Crowley, give me back my bow tie! I will smite you!” His voice rang out, making the shelves shudder a little with the force of the declaration.

The only answer he got was another hiss.

Aziraphale’s annoyance returned full force when the gramophone in the back began to play--an spirited waltz filling the shop. He circled around the end of one set of shelves, only to see a tail disappear around another corner. With a snap, Aziraphale silenced the music and followed after the snake.

Around and around they went, Crowley sneaking between gaps every time Aziraphale thought he’d gained some advantage.

“Crowley! This is ridiculous!” Aziraphale grumbled as he leaned down to see the sleek, black curves of the snake on the other side of the shelves. “Why are you such a terror? And don’t say it’s because you’re a Demon.”

A hiss came from somewhere nearby.

“I don’t understand what you’re upset about.” Aziraphale huffed. “It’s not like we’ve been doing anything different lately.”

He paused, thinking about that for a moment. Everything Crowley had been doing was clearly an attempt to get his attention, but why? They were together everyday. Crowley didn’t seem to mind hanging around the shop while Aziraphale went about his day. It wasn’t that different than before in many ways. But perhaps, that was the problem.

He suddenly heard what Crowley said that night, about saving the world. _Not worth saving if you’re not a part of it_. 

Realization hit Aziraphale suddenly, like smacking into a wall he hadn’t seen coming. “Oh.” It was a quiet statement. He stumbled over to the couch and sat with a thump, mind reeling. “Oh, Crowley. I’m so sorry. You’ve been trying to tell me something and I was oblivious. I’ve been an idiot. Oh, my dear, I cannot apologize enough.”

Aziraphale fretted with his hands, trying to find the right words, to do what he needed to in order to fix the problem he’d created. He looked up at the rhythmic shifting sound to see Crowley, still in snake form, on the other side of the seating area, watching him intensely.

“I just wanted things to go back to how they were.” Aziraphale stated, his defense sounding poor even to his own ears. “But we can’t, can we? Nor should we, I suppose. There’s no reason to. We don’t have to follow the old rules. I just… well, I’m not very good at change, am I?”

The snake stared at him for a moment longer before fading back into human form. Crowley had a slight frown on his face but he crossed over to sit on the other end of the couch, offering out the bow tie.

“Sometimes you need a push, angel.” He replied simply.

“Yes, it seems so.” Aziraphale took the bow tie and ran it through his fingers. “Are you quite cross with me?” 

“Nah. I can never stay mad at you.”

“I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“To be fair, you could have said something.”

Crowley gave him a little huff. “Aziraphale, I watched this bookshop burn. I saw the hellfire they were going to use to destroy you.”

“I don’t see how that’s connected.”

“You are an idiot.”

“I admitted as much.” Aziraphale sniffed. “Will you talk to me? Make me understand so I don’t make the same mistake again?”

“I don’t want things to go back to how they were. We’re on our side, angel. I don’t know what that really looks like, but I didn’t think it would be you ignoring me.” Crowley went silent a moment, staring off at something on the other side of the shop. “I almost lost you. I can’t pretend that things haven’t changed. I needed to know you felt that way too.”

“I do. I really do, my dear. Even if it is a little scary to feel that way. It was easy to hide behind the lies about being enemies or on opposite sides. It’s hard to be honest sometimes. Especially with oneself.”

“I know. That’s why I needed you to get there on your own.”

“So you just tormented me into seeing things your way?”

Crowley shrugged. “I am a Demon, after all.”

“I suppose if it works…” Aziraphale considered it. “I’m sorry I threatened to smite you. I didn’t mean it. I was just cross. I was frustrated that I didn’t understand what was going on.”

“I know you didn’t mean it. I’ve never thought you were capable of it.” 

“Never?”

“You didn’t try to smite me on the Wall. You didn’t know me then and you chose to shelter me from the rain.” Crowley still wasn’t looking at him, but it was clear he was being honest. “You weren’t like the other angels. You were better.”

“You didn’t seem like the demons I’d been warned about.” Aziraphale replied. “When you spoke to me, you sounded… kind.”

The Demon threw him a glare and growled. 

“I know you don’t like that word, but you were. You’ve always looked after me. Gotten me out of trouble a few times. I owe you so much. And I return your sentiment from the other night.”

“My sentiment?”

“That I wouldn’t want to save the world if we were parted. The Earth is far more enjoyable when I can share it with you. I’m glad we’re together and can write the next chapter however we chose. I promise that I won’t push you away. Whatever you want to do, my dear. You have my full attention now.”

“That’s good. I was starting to run out of ideas on how to annoy you around the shop.” 

Aziraphale sighed, but it had no true irritation in it. “I have unending faith in your creativity. You can be quite devious.” He considered it a moment. “What did you do with the things you’ve been stealing?”

“That’s my secret for now, angel.”

“You are a dastardly serpent.”

“Yep.” Crowley grinned. “And you’re stuck with me.”

Aziraphale smiled and offered out a hand. “I can think of far worse fates.” When Crowley placed his hand into the open one, the Angel tugged him a little closer, sides touching. “Let’s figure this out, Crowley. Us. The future. What our side looks like. Maybe it’s time to think about getting out of London. A change of scenery could do us both good.”

“I’d like that.” Crowley replied. “Maybe someplace with a garden?”

“And a library.”

“Obviously.”

“A place of our own.” Aziraphale nodded with satisfaction. “I do like the sound of that.”

Crowley said nothing but leaned a little heavier into Aziraphale’s shoulder as he intertwined their fingers. At that moment, no more words were needed. They had all the time in the world.

\--  
Epilogue - Two weeks later

Crowley gave a large yawn, letting his jaw crack with the effort, before settling further into a tight coil. It was late afternoon and his hidden spot between the bookcases was delightfully warm from a beam of sunlight. A perfect place for a little snake to bask and relax.

He reflected briefly on the prior two weeks--filled with picnics, shows, dinners, and walks through the park. Once Aziraphale set his mind to something, there was no stopping him and in this instance, Crowley had no desire to stop him. Their days were pleasant, cozy even, as they learned to navigate their new world together. Sure they still bickered and tried to out-stubborn the other, but that was who they were and that would never change. He would never want that to change.

But they were happy. Crowley was happy. He enjoyed the lazy afternoons in the park, sunning on the blanket with his head on Aziraphale’s leg as the Angel read from a mystery novel. He delighted in their trip to the planetarium where he pointed out which galaxies had been his. He liked that they sat close on the couch as they indulged in their after dinner glasses of wine. Mostly, he liked that he could sneak his fingers into Aziraphale’s hand when they walked and the Angel would squeeze back, giving him a little smile--a smile that was only for Crowley.

If snakes could smile, Crowley would be. He was warm, content, and felt loved. He could hear Aziraphale puttering around the shop, cooing over the new books he’d brought back from an antique shop they’d stopped in after lunch. Crowley had insisted he needed a nap, mostly to let Aziraphale enjoy his new purchases. But Crowley enjoyed it as well, listening to the pleased little gasps the Angel made as he looked through one book and his murmurs about how clever the author was for a particular turn of phrase.

Curled up in his nice nest (he’d built it from several items off of Aziraphale’s desk, a couple small books, and a nice padding of bow ties), Crowley relaxed and breathed in the scents around him--cinnamon, chocolate, and petrichor. It was the blend of scents unique to Aziraphale and it was all around him.

Crowley was rather proud of the nice little sleeping spot he’d made for himself. Maybe someday he’d give the items back to the Angel. 

Someday but not today.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
